I’ve been struggling to make a decision on whether to go back to Pakistan. I wrote a little about my feelings about working there as a freelance journalist. Read the full piece at Medium, but here's a taste:
"I was supposed to fly back to Pakistan this week. To climb down the stairs off the plane and into night air heavy with diesel exhaust and so much else — rotting mango peels, kabobs frying in their own fat, little white jasmine buds strung into a necklace and sold by a street kid for spare change. I was due to settle into that cacophony of smells, the chaos of afternoon traffic, the kisses from doting aunts and call it all home. Again. Except, I never got on that plane. I just couldn’t bear to go back."